


when in comes the black night

by alesford



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Feels, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Nicole Haught Needs A Hug, Spoilers, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tissue Warning, all the angst tags, everybody needs a hug, post-3x02, probably not going to be canon compliant after 3x03, this is gonna hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: She told Wynonna to let go. She told Wynonna to be smart. And now... now they’ve lost one of their own.But she has to be strong. For Waverly. For Wynonna. She has to be strong.Post-3x02.





	1. no patron saint of silent restraint

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry.

 

 

**when in comes the black night (calling your name since you were born)**

_i was prepared to love you_  
_and never expect anything of you_  
_there's no patron saint of silent restraint_  
_baby, there ain’t no sword in our lake_  
_just a funeral wake_  
_\- ‘weights and measures’ by dry the river_

 

 

Nicole and Doc wait by the side of the road for the medical examiner to arrive. Neither of them have said a word since they looked at the Earp sisters and silently agreed to give them space, heading back up over the hill and towards Highway 12. The wind continues to whip at their faces, and there are tears in both of their eyes.

 

It’s just the wind.

 

She can’t… she can’t do this, right now. She can’t fall apart because Waverly needs her to be strong. Wynonna needs her to be strong. And Doc… there isn’t enough whiskey in Shorty’s to get him through this. Because she knows about his last discussion with Dolls, how they parted with less than friendly words. She knows he’s been struggling far more than he lets on.

 

So she needs to be strong. She needs to be…

 

The medical examiner’s van arrives with Nedley’s cruiser on its tail. Both vehicles slow to a stop just in front of Nicole and Doc. The sheriff is out of his vehicle first and she can see his jaw tense and his eyes hard.

 

He has more experience with this. More than Nicole. She still needs to learn.

 

Ramón Perez, Ghost River County’s current medical examiner, steps out from the van and moves toward its rear doors with only a silent nod in greeting. A pang of concern jolts through Nicole’s chest. Dolls doesn’t know Perez very well… didn’t know him. She shouldn’t let him—

 

She catches her train of thought before it can run itself off the tracks. Perez is not an insane serial killer working for a revenant. He’s a good doctor and a good forensic pathologist. Nicole had run every kind of background check that she could on the man once he had been appointed to the position. He’s okay. He’ll treat Dolls right. He has to.

 

Nicole helps Perez carry the gurney down the incline, an empty, black body bag on top of it.

 

 _Dolls is going in there,_ she thinks. _He’s going in there and he’s not going to wake up this time._

 

He’s not going to wake up because this isn’t some weirdo alternate universe from which they can awake with a well-timed explosion. He isn’t… Dolls isn’t coming back.

 

She tried. She called it in. She called dispatch and told the paramedics where to find them and she started chest compressions to try to get his heart beating again. But he wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating. He wasn’t… he was gone.

 

And she’d called dispatch again and asked for the medical examiner instead of the paramedics. Her voice had cracked when she made the request and she reprimanded herself in her own head for hurting because Wynonna was falling apart beside him while Waverly stood back with a fist against her mouth and tears in her eyes and her shoulders shaking as she choked back quiet sobs.

 

Nicole wanted to go to her. She wanted to wrap her arms around Waverly’s shoulders and whisper again, _“I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it.”_

 

But she can’t fix it. She can’t fix _this_ because Dolls is gone and Wynonna is hunched over him, protecting him even while she’s probably half-frozen to death. And Doc’s posture is stiff and his hands keep opening and closing into fists as if he’s fighting the urge to hit something.

 

Nicole has to be strong. She has to be strong.

 

_For Waverly. For Wynonna. For Doc and Jeremy._

 

_God, does Jeremy even know?_

 

She watches as Waverly pulls Wynonna into her arms and tugs her several steps backwards. Nicole has never seen Wynonna look so broken because the woman leans heavily against her sister, curling into her with fingers grasping tightly at the blanket around Waverly’s shoulders. She has to look away.

 

She goes to help Perez maneuver Dolls into… maneuver Dolls instead. She comes up short as Nedley steps in front of her and shakes his head. “I’ve got him, Nicole,” he mumbles, and his voice is as gruff as it always is but she hears the kindness, the sympathy, the grief in his tone.

 

He’s done this before. He knows how to be strong.

 

So Nicole just nods wordlessly and backtracks. She wants to go to Waverly, to take her and Wynonna into her arms and tell them that it’s going to be okay. But it isn’t.

 

It isn’t.

 

She keeps her distance and she watches as Perez draws the zipper from the bottom of Dolls’ feet to the crown of his head. She swallows around something thick and painful when Nedley helps Perez lift Dolls onto the gurney. The wind whips at her face again and there are tears in her eyes once more as she tracks their movement back up the hill and to the road that she cannot see from here. Doc follows in their wake, taking his hat off and holding it close to his chest as he goes.

 

Dolls is…

 

Anger bursts into her chest, burning white-hot and wrathful. Her vision swims and all she can think is that it should have been her.

 

_It should have been me._

 

Nicole pivots sharply and her legs propel her forward, forward, forward towards Wynonna and Waverly.

 

“Nicole?” Waverly asks. Her voice is unsure and rough from crying and she sees something unfamiliar and _dangerous_ in Nicole’s eyes. Because they aren’t the warm, dark honey brown that she knows. They’re hard and cold and hurting in a way that makes Waverly’s heart ache even more than it already is.

 

And Nicole doesn’t stop. She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t look at Waverly at all.

 

And Nicole reaches for Wynonna’s arm — her right because somewhere inside Nicole’s mind, she knows she can’t hurt her friend — and grips it tight and _pulls._ She yanks her away from her sister’s embrace and she doesn’t hear the sharp, “Nicole!” that comes from her girlfriend’s mouth.

 

Wynonna doesn’t startle. She doesn’t look confused. Her eyes are fixed on the barren grass where Dolls had been. She doesn’t move when Nicole releases her arm. Like this, Wynonna doesn’t look like much of anything.

 

(She looks empty.)

 

It makes Nicole’s blood boil because she needs… she can’t be the only one feeling this. Feeling this outrage because Dolls is _gone_. He’s _dead_ and he’s never coming back.

 

She grits her teeth and her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “What were you thinking?” she says lowly, her tone harsh and resentful.

 

Wynonna’s eyes finally pull away from that desolate spot and meet Nicole’s aggrieved stare.

 

 _“What were you thinking?”_ Nicole snaps again, louder and just as cutting. “I told you to let go!”

 

She doesn’t look empty anymore. Nicole can see the fire beneath her skin, the fury beginning to bubble up into her being. It lifts her shoulders, makes her stand up straighter, and she balls her right hand into a fist.

 

“I told you to let go! I told you to be smart!” Nicole screams and it’s raw and broken.

 

“And I wasn’t going to let you die!” Wynonna matches her volume and ferocity.

 

“Maybe you should have!”

 

Faintly, she can feel Waverly’s hand on her shoulder, hear her attempts to calm. But she’s numb. She’s numb and she’s _angry_.

 

_How is it possible to be numb and to hurt so much at the same time?_

 

“Waverly needs you!” Wynonna roars back. “I need you!”

 

“You needed Dolls, Wynonna! You should have let go! You should have—” … _let me die._

 

She doesn’t say it, though. She doesn’t get the chance because Wynonna pulls back her good arm and her fist connects with her cheekbone. _Hard_. Waverly just barely lurches out of the way as Nicole stumbles backwards from the impact. She trips over her own goddamn feet and her ass hits the dirt and she tastes blood in her mouth.

 

Her vision clears.

 

Wynonna shakes out her hand and reaches for the blanket that’s fallen from her shoulders to the ground.

 

Waverly goes to Wynonna first, helping her with the blanket while keeping her eyes on Nicole.

 

And Nicole can’t meet her gaze. She can’t bring herself to look into the faces of the two people that mean the world to her. She digs her gloved fingers into the dry earth and shakes her head from side to side as if the movement could beat back the anguish replacing the anger.

 

A bark of a sob escapes and then another and another. Her whole body shudders as she’s wracked by a deluge of all the emotions she’s tried to bottle up throughout the course of the day. Concern, fear, joy, resignation and certainty. And then elation and devastation, anger and desperation. That’s what she’s feeling now. _Desperation._

 

Nicole is desperate for this to be a dream, a bad dream that will fade with the dawn of a new of day and a smile from Waverly and a snarky,  _“Morning, Haughtstuff,”_ from Wynonna. She’s desperate for this not to be true. For this not to be their new reality.

 

Dolls is _gone_.

 

Dolls is gone.

 

“It should have been me,” her voice cracks. “It should have been me.”

 

Two sets of strong arms envelop her and she leans into the embrace. She tucks her head beneath Wynonna’s chin and Waverly draws the blanket around the three of them as best she can. They cry together.

 

They cry together on this land that god has forsaken this day, overlooking the Alberta landscape.

 

The sun begins to set.

 

 


	2. we're beasts of blame by nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't feel real. She wants it all to just be a bad dream. Because she hears the words, "I'm mad at you," leave Waverly's mouth and her heart sinks. Can't this just all be a bad dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention of adding this additional chapter. Some version of this idea floated around in my head after watching 3x02, which ultimately led to the previous chapter.
> 
> As of now, consider this work complete. I think this is all the angst I can handle in this universe.

 

 **we're beasts of blame by nature  
** **(doesn't mean that you should carry it again)**

 _just because we're beasts of blame by nature_  
_doesn't mean that you should carry it again_  
_it's a question of needs and not rosary beads in the end  
\- 'weights and measures' by dry the river_

 

 

It still feels like a dream, so surreal with everything too bright or too loud or just too much.

 

Too much feeling. Too much sorrow.

 

It’s more like a nightmare than a dream.

 

Because Dolls is _gone._ And Nicole… Nicole wonders if he might still be alive if Wynonna had chosen him over her. If she had let go of the rope like Nicole told her to do. If she’d been smart about it all.

 

Because their leader is gone. Their friend is gone. One of the _family._

 

That’s what they are to each other. An amazingly fucked-up found family.

 

But it’s theirs.

 

Nicole loves it. Loves them.

 

Too many emotions. Too much sadness.

 

Too many choices.

 

Nicole chose sacrifice and Wynonna chose Nicole and Dolls chose them all. He saved them all. And logically, she understands that the choice for Dolls wasn’t really a choice at all.

 

Because he was theirs and he loved them, too.

 

It feels like a bad dream, being in Waverly’s room, sitting on her bed while her girlfriend stares out the window, so forlorn. Downstairs, she knows she’ll find Wynonna and Doc with a bottle of whiskey between them. Jeremy not far away, probably with his head in his hands and tears in his eyes.

 

Nicole has cried herself dry. She cried herself dry on that cliff’s edge at sunset. Before Nedley returned and shuffled them into his cruiser, making no comment about the bruise blooming across the left side of his deputy’s face. He told them that Doc took off in the Deputy Marshal’s SUV as he drove them to the homestead. They were all surprised to see the truck already parked beside Waverly’s jeep as they pulled up the gravel road.

 

Wynonna was out of the car like a shot. Heavy footfalls sounded more like stomps once her boots hit the wooden porch. The force with which she threw open the door made the others cringe.

 

Internally cringe for the sheriff.

 

Nedley climbed out of his seat and opened the driver side rear door, waiting patiently as Waverly slid out from the backseat with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Nicole moved next, a whispered _‘thank you’_ on her lips. She turned to follow Waverly into the house, treading in Wynonna’s wake.

 

Nedley’s voice stopped her. “Nicole,” he murmured and it was the gentlest tone she had ever heard from the old man.

 

Waverly glanced over her shoulder with worry in her eyes and Nicole shook her head. “Go ahead, Waves. I’ll be inside in a minute.”

 

“Nicole,” Nedley had said again once her attention returned to him. “I know you were closer to Dolls than me. We had our mutual understanding and respect, but I know he was like family to you and those girls.”

 

Nicole had felt her eyes began to sting and she blinked away the pain. She had no more tears to shed today.

 

“I just want you to know, uh, that I’m real sorry for your loss. He was a good man. So I understand if you need to take some time or—”

 

“Thank you, Sheriff,” she cut him off. “I’ll talk to Ruthie about the schedule.”

 

And Nedley could tell that it was bad if his workaholic deputy wasn’t going to fight the suggestion of PTO. He frowned at the thought as the quiet fell between them.

 

He waited for her to say more.

 

She didn’t and so he did instead, blundering through the emotional minefield like a bull in a china shop.

 

“Well, you take care of yourself, Officer Haught. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

 

They left it at that. Nedley drove back into town and Nicole stumbled into the house and up the stairs, sparing only a quick glance at Wynonna and Doc at the table and Jeremy sitting on the sofa.

 

Waverly stood at the window.

 

Waverly stands at the window and Nicole can feel the grief seeping into each of them, settling so deep into the marrow of their bones that they _ache._ She can feel the heartbreak and despair heavy in the air, so thick and painful that they could choke on it.

 

"You should go to the hospital, Waves," Nicole murmurs, so quiet that she isn't sure that Waverly hears until there's a barely noticeable shrug of shoulders and silence descends upon them.

 

She shucks her jacket and her gloves and her toque, not giving two shits that they end up in a messy pile on the floor. The mattress is soft beneath her and all she can do is watch her girlfriend leaning heavily on a crutch that Nicole knows she dug out of the growing supply of medical equipment in the house.

 

They stay like that. Nicole on the bed and Waverly at the window. Silent.

 

“I’m mad at you,” Waverly whispers, trembling voice breaking through the quiet.

 

It startles Nicole, the sound and the words themselves.

 

“What?” she croaks and her throat is dry and scratchy from the sobs that shook her entire frame.

 

(On that barren overlook where the wind howled and the sun set. Where she can still picture Dolls on the cold, hard earth, his body still radiating heat even with his heart stopped and his lungs emptied.)

 

“I’m mad at you,” Waverly repeats and she doesn’t look away from the window. She doesn’t look to see Nicole’s eyes widen.

 

“Waves, I’m so sorry that I yelled. I lost myself for a minute and—”

 

She swallows her next words when Waverly drops her chin to her chest, shaking her head with tears pushing at the corners of her eyes.

 

“You told Wynonna… you told her to let go of the rope, to let you fall.”

 

“I…” Nicole opens her mouth to argue. To say that it would have been the smarter choice, the better choice to choose Dolls, even though she knows now that there wasn’t anything _they_ could do to stop Bulshar’s lackey. “Baby…”

 

Waverly’s eyes snap to hers and they’re green and flecked with gold like the sun’s rays peeking through the clouds over a verdant meadow. Nicole wants to lose herself in them, forget this day ever happened or at least find some respite. Just for a little while.

 

But those same eyes glisten with tears and Nicole knows that now isn’t the time. It isn’t the time to run away from her feelings. To bottle them up again until something shakes her so hard that she loses it and ends up punched in the face by her best friend.

 

“You told Wynonna that she should’ve let go of the rope. You were going to say that she should’ve let you die, weren’t you?” She murmurs the question but Nicole can see in the hunch of Waverly’s shoulders and the anguish on her face that she knows the answer.

 

“Maybe she could have saved him. Maybe he’d still be here,” she whispers.

 

It would have been better, she thinks. Because at least Dolls knew what kind of monster he was. She’s not sure she even knows who she is anymore, and she’s so, so afraid that if and when the fog that blankets her memories clears, she won’t like what she sees in the mirror. That who she might have once been could become a danger, a security risk that puts everybody she loves in harm’s way.

 

At least Dolls knew.

 

“Maybe he’d still be alive.”

 

“But you wouldn’t be, Nicole. Don’t you know how _devastated_ I would be? I think I’d die, Nicole, right along with you. You don’t know what it was like to watch you get shot at the station. To witness the blood, _your blood,_ flow from the widow’s bite. To see you in so much pain in the hospital.”

 

Each and every word feels like a vice tightening around her heart and lungs.

 

“I _can’t_ lose you, Nicole. Wynonna can’t either. I can’t… you told Wynonna to let go of the rope.”

 

She scoffs, wiping at her face with the back of her hand before turning her gaze through the window and out into the dark of night.

 

“You stupid, valiant, self-sacrificing idiot. I’m so mad at you, right now. You and Dolls, but mostly you, Nicole.”

 

“I’m sorry, Waverly. I’m so sorry.”

 

It’s all she can say. All she can do is apologize because she knows that Waverly is right. She knows that the logic that told her to tell Wynonna to let go of the rope is shaky at best. She _knows._

 

“I love you,” Waverly says softly. So softly. “I love you. I’m just really kind of mad at you, right now.”

 

“I need you to know that I love you, Waverly Earp. That I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much and—”

 

“I know. I know and I love you, you and your stupid, self-sacrificing, generous, and kind soul. I do love you. But I’m still angry.”

 

And Nicole breathes a little easier. The pain is still there, the grief, but it feels a little less suffocating after reaffirming their love. Because Waverly is mad but Waverly still loves her.

 

Because maybe whoever she once was doesn’t matter in the present. Doesn’t matter because she loves this woman and her friends downstairs more than anything. Because even if she can’t quite trust herself, she believes in love and family and friends.

 

So she nods her head in understanding.

 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

 

...

 

And real monsters, well… do real monsters know how to love so fiercely?

  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry.
> 
> listen to the song [**here**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpdvXcpfbz8).
> 
> i'm so sorry.


End file.
